Grape or Grain?
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: The scars that are left sometimes cut deeper than skin.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter one.  
  
That woman is finally gone. The mistress of hell who tormented me throughout my entire childhood returned to my current place of work to replace Miss Cackle. She still torments me now, even though it is not as pronounced. She has eased up a bit; otherwise it would become painfully obvious what she did to me in the past. If the other teachers realised they would undoubtedly want to do something. Sometimes they are rather annoying but I am convinced they would be on my side.  
  
And if the girls...I could only imagine how Broomhead would get to each and every one of them. Even I, in all my opinions, thought it was absolute nonsense to attach a tag upon Mildred Hubble. She does not need to be tracked to that extent, besides which Broomhead shares my skill for over- hearing things we shouldn't. She could always hear things that I would say to my few friends. Broomhead seemed to take great pleasure in following me everywhere I went, she'd over-hear my opinions of her and punish me appropriately. If I said she was a cow, she would turn me into one for a week, that was not the most pleasant week of my life, but it was by no mean the worst.  
  
The worst was probably the three weeks I spent alone in a strange form of solitary confinement. A punishment for the contents of my letters to my best friends back home, they who had escaped Broomhead.  
  
Those weeks will stick in my memory for as long as I shall live. Just enough food to survive and nothing to entertain me except reciting endless spells and potions I had previously not bothered paying much attention to. I was not completely useless but in my teenage years I chose not to apply myself, I suppose I should at least thank her for making me so powerful.  
  
But those days became longer and seemed colder, I know within my heart that if I ever told anybody about my imprisonment, the ones like her would think I was weak and if the good people I have come to know discovered the secret, there would be a small uproar. I can hear them now and I can't help but smile to myself.  
  
Amelia would fuss and insist that I took a break; like it happened yesterday or she would dig deeper and deeper until I was forced to talk about it.  
  
Davina would flap about me like a mad, lost moth, muttering "Poor girl" endlessly. Then she would try to console me with some strange and ludicrous story about her own childhood, that would probably have very little to do with my situation. At least she would have, for better or for worse she is gone. Never thought I'd miss the mad woman.  
  
Imogen, being the only other person who talks some sense, would prattle on about how this shouldn't be allowed, about how I should report it to the authorities or how I should have told a family member I was being mistreated.  
  
This is almost enough to make me laugh, just thinking about it, of course somebody would have had to point out to her that I knew it was pointless to tell anybody because my parents knew what she was like, but thought a bit of discipline was warranted. I've never told my colleagues this, but I do think of them as friends, they probably see me as the bossy mean woman, but I do quite like them. They're an odd bunch, but being a witch what could one expect. They are certainly better company than her.  
  
And much better company than the other drunks I used to hang around with. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two.  
  
I have not had a smidgen of alcohol for about ten years. Lord knows how I have survived this long; all my friends knew I used to drink like a fish. Not long after I first left Broomhead I began drowning my sorrows about three times a week with money sent from home. It was an extremely stupid thing to do, but I was young and very angry at the world and her in general.  
  
The mornings were the worse. I had nothing to do until my afternoon classes so I had all the time I needed to rid myself of a hangover. All of the other students I knew drank, but that was just winding down at the end of the day. Eventually the bar manager stopped serving me, every time I tried to go in there, no matter how sober, the manager would always throw me out. So I went elsewhere, sometimes I'd change my appearance and talk various men into buying me drinks. Occasionally I'd wake up in strange beds, but not that often. Most mornings I'd wake up in an alley or on my own bedroom floor. The bedroom floor was the best. If I woke up there I knew I was lucky.  
  
Every time I had a hangover I'd promise myself that I'd stop, but whenever I received a money package from home, Broomhead's face would come into my head and I'd be able to hear her voice. Always criticising me.  
  
I stopped drinking one night after my sister saw me and forced me to look as what I would become and at I was. I still have a very small scar on my wrist form where I smashed the mirror. But that is nearly invisible; it is the look in my eyes that people see. Like I was suffering behind them. They say the eye is the window to the soul, and I knew that my soul must be seriously damaged.  
  
The booze caught up with me. Mainly because my sister did. Every time I tried to go out she made me talk about what Broomhead did. It was agonising. After about two months I managed to sneak out, and it was worse than it had ever been. All that time of being sober I was completely trashed by the end of the night, I probably would have died but somebody found me on the street and rushed me to the hospital. When I woke up I was told all the drinking had given me weak liver. That pushed me into a new wave of depression. Broomhead had always told me I was weak. She had become right. She also came to see me when I wad laid up.  
  
I was alone when she came. Another monologue about how I was useless and about how I'd never amount to anything. What I didn't know is that my sister had heard it all, it was one of my finest moments seeing my sister reprimand Broomhead for her atrocious behaviour.  
  
Then I went to Cackles academy, I thought I was free. Then she arrived. The first time I do not know how I survived, probably because I managed to stay out of her way. She remembered everything my sister said but I escaped unscathed.  
  
It was probably one of the many reasons she decided to be just as horrible to me this time, on the one occasion she caught me alone she asked me if I could face her without my sister. As fast as I could I walked down the opposite corridor till I found somebody. Luckily it didn't take long. Unluckily it was Enid Nightshade. Then Broomhead appeared behind me, for the first time I think I was more afraid of the situation than Enid was. She must have noticed my fear because she looked livid towards Broomhead. Never before had I thought Enid could be so perceptive as to realise what was truly happening, but nonetheless, she seemed to know.  
  
Broomhead merely smirked at Enid and then went on her way. I managed to breathe again and shot Enid a thankful look. We walked in silence to the potions classroom. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three.  
  
Later that night I could stand it no longer, making my way down to the kitchen with a feeling of being watched, praying that we at least had some wine in the cellar. Finding only one bottle of red wine and deciding it wouldn't do I changed a bottle of water into vodka. A trick I learnt during my time as a drunk.  
  
I drank half a glass of my wine slowly, luxuriating in the taste of what felt like an old friend. I felt a small sensation of burning down my throat as I finished my glass, before I could pour myself another glass though I caught sight of my face in a pan. I knew if I continued I would end up as I always had before, on the floor, without a pupil in my eye.  
  
But tonight I didn't care. Warming up my fingers I vanished the pan. Discarding my glass I began drinking from the bottle, soon the bottle of wine was empty and the old feeling of numbness began to come to me. I drank form my new bottle with vigour, noting that unlike all magical food the drink was the best I could recall. I don't remember anything after that.  
  
When I woke it was five o'clock in the morning and my head was throbbing. I don't know how I managed to crawl up to my tower but I know the second I was in there I threw up the contents of my stomach.  
  
Grimacing, I cleaned myself up and dressed as quickly as my head would allow, then I headed down to breakfast, knowing with grim satisfaction that none of the others would make me eat, although I was dreading the knowledge that they would ask me if I knew who had disturbed the kitchen last night. Oddly no one asked me anything. Although Broomhead did give an extremely pointless speech about keeping track of everybody, surely she knew that I know where all the girls are. Or did she do it merely to undermine my authority.  
  
My classes that day all seemed to drag by and the pupils all noticed I was groggy and extremely not with it, in the past they were all terrified so even on an off day none of them dared play me up. Thankfully Miss Cackle came back today, Broomhead hadn't been here a whole day and she effected me like this once more.  
  
By the end of the day I was just about ready to jump out of a window, however all I did was act normally until it was late and everybody else was asleep. Then once again I snuck down to the kitchen; already knowing it was an extremely stupid thing to do.  
  
I had turned three bottles of water into red wine and was about to once again attempt to drown her out when a warm hand grabbed my wrist before I could start. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four.  
  
When I turned sharply, it was Enid.  
  
"Miss Hardbroom, what are you doing."  
  
She spoke quietly and calmly, but through gritted teeth. Her eyes were piercing as they searched hers, her hand still grasping her teachers wrist. Her voice shaking Constance answered.  
  
"I was just indulging in a late night drink Enid, I'm perfectly entitled."  
  
"How much have you had.?"  
  
"How could you understand the difference in how much alcohol I consume.?"  
  
"My older sister was an alcoholic..."  
  
"I am not an alcoholic.!"  
  
Enid, for the first time in her years at Cackles did not flinch at being yelled at, she smiled lightly and continued. This time Constance listened.  
  
"My sister denied being an alcoholic every time I asked her about it. Some mornings she'd come crashing into my bedroom and pass out on the floor. Then I'd clean up and cover for her with our parents."  
  
There was silence until Constance came to a realisation. Quietly she spoke.  
  
"It was you. You cleared up the kitchen after I left." Enid nodded, but didn't speak.  
  
"What happened to her.?"  
  
"I never really found out. But one night she went out and didn't come home. I told my mother she went out drinking and she went out to look, then she came home and began phoning around all the hospitals. We found her eventually. The doctors told us she was very ill and we weren't sure if she'd make it through the night."  
  
"How is she now.?"  
  
"She never made it through the night."  
  
Neither spoke, but Constance managed to move her arm around Enid's shoulders and pulled her into an awkward hug. When she pulled back there was an uncomfortable silence.  
  
"I'm very sorry Enid. I had no idea."  
  
"I never even told my friends about what happened. I'm not sure if they'd understand. Maybe they'd blame me, I always felt like it was my fault."  
  
"It's not your fault. When you're drinking nothing else matters except for when you get your next drink."  
  
Then once again silence fell over them. A few minutes passed and Constance was trying her best not to just pick up her own glass. Enid noticed where her eyes were focussed.  
  
"Miss Hardbroom, please don't drink that. I can't stand to lose somebody else to liver failure, it's horrible to see somebody you care about in pain like that."  
  
"I don't have anybody who would be by my bedside to suffer with me."  
  
"I'd be there."  
  
And it finally clicked inside her head, Heckity Broomhead meant nothing anymore. People might actually care about her if she let them, it didn't mean that she would be weak in front of the girls. Imogen was lovely to the girls and yet they showed her nothing but respect, same with Miss Cackle. She turned he gaze to Enid and opened up her arms for the girl. Enid hugged her back and for a few minutes nothing would have came between them.  
  
"Miss Hardbroom, you should probably go back to bed, before somebody comes. I'll tidy up the kitchen." Before she could argue with her young student she was cut off.  
  
"Don't argue. Go.!"  
  
Enid seemed to notice the startled look on her teacher's face because her own face turned from stern to sympathetic.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."  
  
"It's alright Enid. I just haven't had anybody shout at me in years. It's the only way to snap people out of it."  
  
"I know. Now go to bed."  
  
Smiling to herself she left the kitchen to Enid and walked the cold, hard steps to her bedroom, deciding that there was still something that needed to be finished. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five.  
  
The following morning Enid woke drenched in sweat. She had slept fitfully, dreaming of when she had lost her sister and the agony that had followed. It was then she had become rebellious and not long after that her parents had grown tired of her antics and sent her to Cackles Academy instead.  
  
Dressing quickly she lay on her bed praying to whatever God was listening that Miss Hardbroom would be Ok. She hadn't been lying last night. She couldn't stand to see somebody else go through the pain of liver failure.  
  
The others knocked on her door and Enid went downstairs trying not to look too distracted, thankfully nobody noticed. Everybody noticed that Miss Hardbroom wasn't at breakfast, but nobody thought anything of it. Except Enid.  
  
This morning, however, she couldn't run off to find her teacher, she was stuck with her friends. They entered their potions classroom and waited for Hb to come in, when five minutes passed everybody became curious. Miss Hardbroom was never late for a lesson, or anything else. Mildred was the first to turn to her.  
  
"Enid, where do you think Hb could be.? She's never been late before..."  
  
Enid raised her hand to silence Mildred and realising that she could hear what she thought she could hear, she moved to the door quickly.  
  
Next tot he potions classroom was the staircase to the kitchen and Enid was sure she could heard bottles breaking. Smiling she leaned against the doorframe and waited until Miss Hardbroom was content with her life.  
  
The End. 


End file.
